Metamorphosis
by salleaanonymous
Summary: When Victor grows old, he cannot die, only slowly deteriorate and live as a zombie and later a skeleton. As he loses his memory, can he prevent his future loneliness by keeping Victoria alive forever? If he can't remain in the underworld or on earth, where can he possibly go? Based on a theory I saw that Victor progresses to become Jack. First fanfiction I've ever written!
1. Prologue

This is my first ever fanfiction, please give feedback! All characters used belong to Tim Burton and/or Disney, not me! The scenario is based on a theory I saw online once, and I just made it a lot sadder.

**Prologue**

"_We all end up the remains of the day."_

Victor could tell he was getting older. Whether it was the wrinkles on his formerly smooth face, his teeth in a state of disrepair, or how often he was reminded of the "old days", he was absolutely certain that this was what being old meant. Not to mention the aches, pains, and the like; it was headaches mostly. The headaches led to him not quite being able to place the scent of his dear Victoria's perfume when she was away or the names that went with the children's faces.  
The wedding was an arranged marriage. Both his parents, crabby and hateful until the day they died, and hers, equally rude, seemed to think the wedding would result in great fortune for them. It didn't, naturally. What it did result in, though, was Victor gaining a great fondness for Victoria. He liked the way she smiled, the way she moved her fingers across the keys of a piano, the sweet sound of her humming to the music. He loved that her hair color matched her eyes so perfectly, and he loved her quiet observance. He felt terribly clumsy by comparison, though she often assured him he was not. His family resented her. She brought him happiness, but what good was she to them?

Later in their marriage, Victor and Victoria could say truly that they loved one another. They had three children who they named Valerie, Vincent, and Vladimir. This was all a clever joke for Victor and Victoria.

Even after bearing three children, Victoria remained practically rail-thin. Victor, on the other hand, grew a bit of a belly once he got settled in as an entomologist. Sitting all day, drawing pictures, and writing wasn't much of an athletic lifestyle, and Victoria's cooking was delicious. Although she couldn't understand his books, she was very clever with a needle and thread, a talented cook, and her voice was lovely. He didn't care that she wasn't well-read. He loved her anyway.

Being a scientist by profession, Victor had little money to contribute, but every bit he earned went straight to what was best for Victoria. He remembered how it felt growing up. His family was so selfish, and he didn't want any of that. After the children were born, he got a job in a heavy metals plant. It wasn't so good for his health, but it brought in a good amount of money to sustain his children and his wife. She peddled quilts as well, and they made a nice life of it.

They had their arguments. No relationship is perfect. But it always worked out for them. Neither of them could recall the reason for a fight even a half hour after it happened.  
And now, Victor was old. He was tired. And he was beginning to forget.


	2. Chapter 1

Again, none of my characters, but enjoy. Please leave feedback, and/or follow! I'm going to try to update consistently.

**Chapter One: Until There's Nothing Left**

"_Will you still need me, will you still feed me? When I'm 64" – The Beatles_

Victor put on his eyeglasses and sat down in his chair. He had bills to sort through and the paper to read, all spread neatly on the small table before him. He could hear Victoria in the kitchen, humming. He smelled their breakfast, sausages and perhaps eggs, as the scent wafted through the living room.

She shuffled in, resting the tray in front of her husband and kissing his cheek before sitting down.

"And what do we have today?" he asked, smiling and not quite looking away from his stack of papers.

"If you'd look away from work for a moment, you could see," she laughed, pushing back some of the loosened strands of hair from her bun. "I've already tended the garden today, and it looks just lovely. We'll have tomatoes growing soon enough."

He raised his bushy brows and looked down to the plate to see one sausage, a scrambled egg, and a piece of French bread. "What's all this?"

She laughed, and though her voice was rougher than it used to be, he still felt a tug in his stomach that felt like the butterflies he so loved were spreading their wings inside him. "It's your birthday, you silly," she smiled. "You're 64 today. Honestly, love, how can you forget your own birthday?"

He grinned. "Well, I suppose it is. Thank you for such a lovely breakfast then, Victoria. It looks delicious."

"Now eat it, before it gets cold."

After breakfast, she started a fire and sat with him on their couch. Her hand hovered over his and he took it, their fingers fitting together wonderfully, as always. Though they were wrinkled and spotted, they both still felt as if it was the first time they held hands. She noticed his hands were cold and took the blanket from behind them to cover the both of them.

"Happy birthday, my love, and may you have many more," she cooed, resting her head on his shoulder.

He began to muse on his own thoughts and his face fell.

"Dear?" she said, sitting up straight and glancing over at him.

He peered into her eyes and smiled reassuringly, hoping she would be less worried. "I'm quite alright, dear, I'm just… just thinking."

She nodded. "And what about, my love?"

"Well," he sighed. "I'm… getting concerned about my mental state. Remember how my father was just before he passed? Forgetful… seemingly… out of touch with any of his mental facilities?"

"Don't I ever," she sighed. "Keep in mind, we were both caring for him. After your mother passed, I think he just… let it get to him."

"I'm worried that I'm forgetting. I couldn't even remember how to draw Morpho peleides yesterday. It lasted until I actually looked it up in one of MY books…"

"Well, you're simply out of practice, my darling. Besides, I think you're fine. Just a bit of old age, my dear. Nothing more."

His heart weighed heavy. "Well, darling, it isn't just that…"

"What is it?"

He sighed, looking to her. "Victoria, I've got to tell you something. Do you… do you remember how it was… before we got married?"

"Certainly," she said, her brow furrowing, "I lived with my parents, and-"

"That isn't what I meant," he sighed, "I mean… just before. With the… erm… the corpse business. With Emily."

"Oh," she said, nodding. "Yes, I remember her."

"There's something I have to tell you. Remember how I went with her to… well, to the underworld?"

"I remember, certainly." She took her hand back from his, and looked into his eyes. The light played off her irises, the brown turning to gold in the light. "What are you trying to say, Victor? You're worrying me."

"I…" he began, slowly. He wasn't sure how to break it to her. "I don't think I can die."

"That's absurd!" she said, rolling her eyes, "Who would ever think such a thing, Victor, really!"

"I have already been in the underworld. The land of the dead. And from what I understand… I've researched and… I cannot return."

"Sure you can," she said, "Victor, I know you better than to read books full of fiction and take them as truth, what on earth has come over you?"

"Death has come over me, Victoria," he sighed softly.

"Death? I thought you just said you can't-"

"I am a corpse," he said. He took her hand again. It was still unusually cold. It seemed stiff. He frowned once more. "I cannot go to the land beyond and I am trapped here."

"Then why aren't you a ghost?" she asked. "Why aren't you just a spirit?"

"I can't leave my body. I'm stuck here, I believe."

She paused for a moment, considering what he had just said. "Alright," she said softly, "if you're dead… then you can't have a pulse. And you can't eat."

"I did eat, Victoria, I can't process it. Try to listen to my heartbeat."

She pressed her ear against his chest. She could hear nothing. Not even the sound of his breathing. Only her own blood pumping through her head, her own breathing growing heavy and nervous.

"Victor, I don't understand," she said, tears filling her eyes.

"I am going to rot away, Victoria. I cannot die. Someday, you will have to lay to rest. You will be at peace. I cannot."

His heart would wrench at the thought if it still functioned. Living alone, forever, rotting away until he was a skeleton. Until there's nothing left.

"I have to go and speak to someone I haven't seen for a very long time, Victoria. I promise I'll come back as soon as possible, but he's the only person I know of who could help."

"Who?" she asked, wiping her teary eyes once more.

"He is the border between the living and dead. He has a convenient office location both in the underworld and just a few towns over. His name is Elder Gutknecht."


	3. Chapter 2

As per usual, not my characters, just my fic! Based on a lovely theory I read once, please review!

**Chapter Two: Travelling**

"_I'm trying to earn a set of feathery wings…" – Feathery Wings, Voltaire_

Though Victoria pleaded with him not to go, Victor squeezed her hands and smiled. "It's for the best," he said, kissing her forehead and letting go of her hands. "I promise I'll return. I love you, Victoria."

"I love you, too," she said, wiping tears from her large brown eyes. "I don't want you to go." Her cheeks took on a deep pink color, just as they always did before she cried.

"Don't worry, darling, I'll be back, really," he smiled reassuringly. He picked up his bag. "Perhaps Elder Gutknecht will know a way out of this and I can just… go on. In peace."

She sobbed, selfishly. "Victor I don't want you to go on. I want you here. I want you close to me. Not in the afterlife, but here…"

"Victoria," he said softly, taking her face in his hands, "I love you, more than anything. But we have lived a long, long life together, and if it is my time to pass, it is my time…"

A sob shook through her again as she wrapped her frail arms around him tightly. He held her for a moment until she stopped crying and looked up at him. "Just please come back to say goodbye…"

He nodded. "Promise."

He put on his hat and stepped up onto his horse.

Elder Gutknecht was never surprised by his visitors anymore. His office, covered in dust and grime (the way he liked it) was always ready when the person about to arrive showed up. He was, however, startled at his premonition of Victor.

"It has been quite a long time," he thought to himself, scratching at his wrinkled chin.

Victor walked in at precisely 7:13 pm. He was hit by the smell of moldering books, sickeningly sweet, and a hint of mint tea, mixed with the smells of all the various jars and vials filling the room.

"You're a minute late, what took you?" the Elder said, his hands flurrying over the old books.

"Elder Gutknecht, I have… well, I have a bit of a problem."

"I know," he said, "what is it, my boy?"

Victor looked down, his thoughts trying to untangle themselves. "Well, sir, I seem to be… how do I put this?"

"Deceased," Gutknecht retorted.

"How did you know?" Victor said, looking up.

"You've turned a particular shade of green that only occurs after life is finished," the old crone said, smiling toothlessly.

"Right, well… how come I haven't…. you know?"

"Moved on?" the elder said, adjusting his glasses and peering into his book. "I was just researching that myself, Victor. It seems to me that your case is unprecedented as of yet."

"Meaning?" he gulped, bracing for the worst.

"You've already been to the underworld, boy," he replied, tapping the ends of his fingers together to form a triangle between his hands and the open book on the desk, "and if my suspicion is correct, you cannot return."

"That's impossible!" Victor said, shaking his head. "I'm dead, that's what the dead do, they pass on and they go have a drink in the pub in the underworld and just-"

"But you haven't, now have you? How long have you been dead now, Victor?"

Truly, Victor was unsure. Of course he had noticed his symptoms, but progressively. Usually, he imagined, death just sort of leapt out at people and made it clear that it was their time to head on. He, however, seemed to have forfeited that option.

He shook his head. "I'm not sure, sir. Please, help me… what am I to do if I can't stay here? My wife, Victoria, she's already so hurt because of this, I can't just sit around the house and decompose while she sits there and knits as if nothing were wrong… there has to be something. I need to... I must go on. I've been a good Christian all my life, surely I'll become an angel, earn my set of wings, and-"

The elder nodded. "Under most circumstances, I would not deny you to speak of such things. Once a body moves on from the inbetween, where you were, they go somewhere else. I've heard many stories. But the fact of the matter is, you went from the overworld to the inbetween and back. You cannot go to the underworld."

Elder Gutknecht paused. "There are other worlds, you know. The overworld, the underworld, the inbetween… they are not the only options."

Victor paused, considering this. "What other options are there, for a walking dead man?" he said, smiling wanly.

"There are a few places," he replied, flipping through the well-thumbed pages of the giant tome before him. "What you need to do is find the proper one. You wouldn't do well in the land of Christmas, I don't imagine-"

"A land for a holiday?" he asked, some amount of disbelief in his voice.

Elder Gutknecht smiled. "Boy, you have been to the afterlife, and you don't believe that other worlds could exist for other things?"

He nodded, wiping at his eyes. He would be crying right now, he thought to himself, if he could cry.

"Ah!" the elder said, slapping at his dusty knee. "I've got just the place."

Victor approached, climbing over several books with some difficulty, and peering over his shoulder. "Halloweentown?" he said softly, under his breath.

"Precisely. Many outcasts of this world and others go there. Neither dead, nor alive. They are all there, and they will accept you as the corpse you are and the skeleton you will one day become," he said, peering at Victor.

"Elder, I'm not sure if I… is this really the place you would recommend?" he asked.

"Over all others, yes."

"How do I get there, then?" Victor said, determined. He trusted Elder Gutknecht wouldn't steer him wrong, especially in a matter of life or death… or, rather, of solely death.

"If you wander into the forest for long enough, you will eventually find yourself lost. 30 paces in the opposite of the direction you believe you came from you will find a clearing, and there are several trees with many doors. The proper door is shaped as a gourd with a face."

"Have I time to go and say goodbye to my dearest Victoria?"

"You have all the time you wish for," the elder replied, "but be wary that you get there before too long. In Halloweentown, the laws are different. A decomposing body can walk, and talk. In the real world, however, if you can't move… you simply can't."

"Thank you, Elder… one last request?"

"Anything, my boy."

"Please be sure that Victoria does not follow…"

"Halloweentown is not open to mortals, Victor. Of this I can assure you."

With that, Victor thanked the man with a handshake and walked out of the small alleyway. He knew that his next task would be the most difficult… saying goodbye.


End file.
